Broken Wings
by Lacewing
Summary: A Hufflepuff girl is discovered by Severus Snape to be having visions, and they are about him.
1. Default Chapter

_Mentally she screamed. She felt as if she was breaking into a thousand shattering pieces of a fragmented mirror, with each piece reflecting back distorted half images. _

_ It's not real, she kept trying to tell herself. None of this will happen or has happened or is happening! A million shadows of herself screamed with her, each saying and doing something slightly different from the others. She was shaking when a menacing shadow passed over her. Oddly, it did not frighten her, not like the images that swirled around her. She felt a focus of chilling calm in the tossed sea of chaos._

_ Then everything focused on one horrifying reality. Children weeping with horror and fear a mother's scream stopped short with sickening finality. A man unable to save his family or himself; laughter, cruel words uttered in secret._

_ Names. _

Heather Fletcher of Hufflepuff House sat up in her bed, sweating. She heard the rustle of her tiny barn owl, Rosemary, on the perch next to her. Heather, throwing her legs over the side of her comfortable bed, reached out and scratched the little owl in the 'good place'. Smiling despite the images still burning into her sleep fogged brain, she reached out and picked up her journal. With a small ---and very Muggle--- book light which she had long ago enchanted with a_ lumos_ spell, she set to work jotting down her dream. When Heather reached the end, all of the details that scared and horrified her were set out in logical dispassionate detail. One would almost think her heart was not bothered by the things she saw. 

Heather had always wondered why she was placed in Hufflepuff. Besides not being the most popular House in the school, the other students were all so... _something_. She really couldn't even find words for them. She wrote them instead.

  


_Did the Sorting Hat make a mistake? It took some time for it to figure out where to place me. I was surprised when, for all to hear, it shouted, "Hufflepuff!" I worried Mother would not be happy. Father, bless his Muggle soul, never understood how much it meant to Mother that I be sorted into HER house: Ravenclaw. Cleverest and brightest. Logical. Mummikins did take it awfully well, so it wasn't a total loss._

_ But I never really feel like I belong to this house I find myself in, either. Everyone is so interested in plants and being_ nice _and being all heart and just, well, annoying really. I hate being fussed over for skinning a knee or popping a blister. I've always prided myself in being able to handle pain, keeping a cool and level head when everyone else panics. _

  


Heather stopped, having lost track of her thoughts. With a sigh she stood and without disturbing her roommates quickly dressed. Carrying her school satchel and shoes, she quietly sneaked from the dorm to the common room. She gazed around the comfortably furnished area where fellow Hufflepuffs could study and talk. 

She couldn't handle it. She wanted out. It reminded her of dreams and things she wanted to escape. But despite that the hour was reaching dawn and soon everyone would be rising for breakfast and classes, she couldn't bring herself to wait in the common room like a _good_ student. 

So she went sneaking out. Standing in the oddly empty and silent halls of Hogwarts, she wondered where she would go. In the first couple years of her stay as a student, she used to go to the greenhouse, the rows of plants calming her nerves. At this hour though, Professor Sprout might already be there watering and readying the greenhouse for classes. Sprout was the ultimate kindhearted Hufflepuff; she really didn't want her fussing about at this moment. Her head ached and she wondered if she should go to the hospital wing. Again, she tossed the thought from her mind. Well-meaning Madame Pomfrey would also _fuss_. Suddenly there came to mind ---like a haven of solitude--- her first class of the day. 

Potions. 

Normally, she would avoid the dungeons of Hogwarts at all costs in fear of meeting up with a snooty pureblood-loving Slytherin, but at this hour they should all be in bed. _As should I,_ she thought. It was a perfect place to sit and just let her mind wander whatever path it wished to take. No one would go near Professor Snape's domain willingly. So no one would expect her to be there. It was widely known that the Hufflepuffs lived in abject fear of Slytherin House and Professor Snape in particular. Smiling at having come upon the perfect solution for her problem, she quickly skipped towards class, her small brown bag of books over one shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Head bowed against her folded arms, Heather sniffled pathetically feeling burning behind her eyes and intense pounding in her skull. As the last couple weeks had passed, her dreams had grown worse. She lost interest in everything and found herself retreating more and more to the dark and quiet of the Potions classroom. Sometimes she found herself hiding just outside the door until Snape grew tired of flunking student papers and left the class and it became hers once more. She hardly ever went back to the Hufflepuff house anymore; her bed hadn't been slept in for days. 

She couldn't sleep. The moment she closed her eyes, the images started. She saw things so horrifying that she wanted to scream and weep and tell SOMEONE. She hoped these were just bad dreams, but somehow she did not think so. Heather was terrified that if she told anyone they would think she had gone mad. She would look like the Divinations teacher, foretelling doom and gloom on a weekly basis. She knew the visions to be real. Some of the other, more innocent dreams had come true. Even through the pain, she couldn't help but smile at the image of that Gryffindor Neville having a long and heartfelt conversation with his toad, Trevor. Then she passed Neville sitting on a step of the shifting stairs....

Having a conversation with Trevor. Begging him not to run away again. Just like her dream. 

The dejavous was nearly too much. All Heather could do was continue writing down the things in her head, hoping against hope that writing it down would help calm the horrible pounding and screaming, the faces of people she never knew and never would know, the chilling masks and the horrible laughter. Sometimes when she lacked words, she drew. Heather never been the greatest of artists, but the simple stark lines of terrifying things made her want to cry as fires burned and blood spread over silver snow on the parchment before her. 

What made it all worse for her was that she _understood_. She understood the motivations and reasoning ---however deranged or delusional--- of the madmen in her mind. It made it all worse, so much worse, because she felt sick and deranged herself. How could she sympathize with such… _monsters_? 

_They're only human, like me. Just as scared and unsure of the world. Looking for answers and thinking they may have found them. Staring at shadows looking for dreams and hopes and secret ambitions._

These thoughts didn't cheer her. 

"What," a cold voice behind her startled Heather out of her thoughts. Her quill slipped. Striking a line through the middle of the last drawing as she raised her head with a snap from her folded arms, "are you doing here?" It was hardly a question. 

She hastily slammed her book closed and stood. She was barely able to save her chair from crashing to the stone floors as she spun to see what she had feared seeing in the dungeons since she first came down here to escape. She met the cold black eyes of the Potions Master, who stared at her with a raised brow taking in her pale and startled features.

"I, was..." She was at a loss for words. Her eyes were still slightly puffy from tears both shed and unshed. Her head began to pound once more and she had to sit. Digging the palms of her hands into her eyes, she felt as if that would somehow make the pain go away. 

"I'm sorry, sir. This was the only place I could think of to find solitude at this hour. I know, I know. I'm not supposed to be out of my House."

As she turned her elbows on the table looking completely dejected, Snape stared coolly. He was unused to students seeking out his classroom for anything. He stared down at the slightly chunky figure of the student. Ms. Fletcher wasn't the brightest of his students. He remembered flunking several of her papers quite legitimately. Mousy hair. He recalled startling eyes of an interesting non-shade, but really she wasn't much of anything. _She was,_ he thought, _just a mediocre student would likely marry a Muggle when she graduates and waste everything she did manage to learn in the seven years of attendance at this school._

She spoke again before he could make up his mind as to whether to chase her out of his classroom or punish her.

"Please sir, I.. I just can't handle being anywhere near people right now. I only sought a place to sit without disturbance. I will leave shortly."

Her words were so without emotion. They had a hollow, dead quality that at first made him wonder if he had heard anything at all. Pursing his lips slightly, Severus Snape made up his mind. He set down the papers he had graded and nearly forgotten about until a few minutes ago and turned to leave the classroom again. Just as he reached the door the girl said very quietly, "Thank you, sir."

Severus said nothing.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


The next morning. Heather was afraid Professor Snape would make an issue out of finding her in his classroom after curfew. Instead, he said and did nothing out of the ordinary, not even when she nearly melted her cauldron because she wasn't quite with the class. Instead, he had tapped her shoulder with a spoon and gave his usual snappish speech about her clumsiness and usual student stupidity, but he did not say a single word about her being in his class, or suggest how she may have spent some of that time constructively studying or some such if she was going to break rules. 

She could have hugged him when he deducted five points from Hufflepuff for her inattention. She was able to spend the rest of the class in a much more pleasant mood. 

That is, until the vision gripped her. Flames. Blood on snow. Tendrils of long hair. Eyes once beautiful and full of life staring at a cold December sky. A child laying as if though sleeping, but who she knew would never go to school or fly a broom.

"Ms. Fletcher. Pay attention!" A chilling shadow came up behind her. With a scream, she brandished her mixing spoon like a weapon. Students moved quickly aside as she backed up and knocked over the tables and the cauldrons' contents to go splashing acrossed the grey stone floors. With a cry of pain and fear, she covered her eyes with the palms of her hands and tried to kill the images playing in her mind. She did not hear the confused babble of students or Professor Snape's calm orders. She never felt her nails ---nearly chewed to the quick--- digging into her scalp, drawing blood. Long fingers encircled her wrists and an unexpected slap crossed her cheek, forcing her to lose the thread of vision. Sharp, sudden pain flared on her skin and made her eye feel as if it would explode. 

But it brought her back. She stared up at the eyes of her teacher and suddenly began to weep. She buried her face in the black robes of wool and linen, feeling stupid and helpless and most of all, ashamed of the tears. She had showed her pain. She was not as strong as she tried to be.

Severus' eyes widened as the girl began to cry, her head against his chest. He was at a complete loss as to what to do for the few moments she kept weeping defected apologies that made very little sense to him. Something about being weak. Screwing up, of all things, the silly potion that was splashed acrossed his classroom. He was rather relieved when she suddenly went still and relaxed, passing into a faint. He caught her before she tumbled to the ground and was glad that at that moment Madam Pomfrey made her appearance. The girl was whisked from his class, no longer his concern. 

Students were still in shock and the class was ruined 

"I want you all to write an essay about the potion we were making today. Dismissed." They left in a confused mass of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff, not completely sure what had happened other than one of their own had just went stark raving mad.

With a sigh and a budding headache, Severus set about cleaning his classroom. Even those who had not had their tables tipped by the screaming Ms. Fletcher had abandoned their cauldrons, thus ruining the morning's work. He got things straightened and righted, gathering the forgotten textbooks and book bags scattered here and there throughout his classroom. One bag he picked up fell with a thump and a small journal slid out, the cover falling open enough for his eyes to read the round printed letters.

_Give me not the ghost of broken wings_

_ Found only in the minds of dreamers._

_~ Heather Fletcher ~_

  


Severus did not recall any such lines of poetry anywhere. He assumed it must be a bit of original work. Tucking the book among the others he had collected, he dropped it on his desk for the moment.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Later, as he was correcting papers, most of the students from his first class developed enough spine to collect their forgotten things. News from the infirmary was that the girl was still unconscious. He thought briefly about sending the books and bag along with a student, but as other things came up during the day, he put it from his mind as unimportant at the moment.

But he found himself staring at the journal. Such an inconspicuous thing. Likely full of the ramblings teenage horrors of female persuasion normally think about, that being, teenage horrors of a male persuasion. He ignored it.

Later, he found himself musing over the bit of poetry in the beginning. Debating to himself over how it went again. _Give not the dreams of broken_.. No. He frowned. It really wasn't any of his business. If it wasn't for the late hour, he would have taken the pesky journal right then and there to the infirmary and been done with it.

Instead, he stared at it. Then he reached over to open and read those cogent few verses. Randomly flipping pages, he looked to see if there were more like it. 

An image stopped him. It was crudely drawn, but not the kind of image a child would be normally drawing; a blood covered altar with a man strapped down. Faceless people surrounding the terror-filled gaze of the human.

He'd seen this before.

Severus' blood ran cold as he began to read words that no CHILD should know of. This girl was what, fifteen? She wrote of abominations to which he was intimately familiar, scattered among half-formed crazed and worried thoughts of a child not knowing what it is she was seeing. Unable to understand or comprehend a world where these things happen, she was trying to rationalize it, understand it, and failing. 

He found descriptions of things he knew very well, for they were the very things he himself had once done, was still forced to charade as.

This child described the Death Eaters, Voldemort, and people marked for death with chilling accuracy. He slammed the book shut, eyes wide and breath coming in hissed breaths between clenched teeth. 

What sort of obscene joke was this? It could not be happening. No child should have such clairvoyance of vision. 

Eventually, his mind had to accept what his eyes saw. That within the pages of a Hufflepuff girl's diary were foretellings of plausible and accurate doom. He set the book aside, feeling as if he was profaning something deeply private, and then began to rub the bridge of his nose feeling the twinges of a headache.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather was lost. _Lost, lost, lost, lost_. Her mind sung like a broken doll that, when you pulled her string, could only repeat a sickly half phrase. She was huddled among many shards of broken images, none of which were her. Pieces of things she didn't understand; emotions and things she never would do or have done. This one she grieved for the loss of her parents. This one she never had any. This one her father died, this one her mother. Over here, Professor Snape held her pinned to a wall, threatening her with things she didn't understand. Over there, someone touched her in a way no one ever did. A gentle kiss along the shoulder; quiet seductive words to turn any girl's head. 

But none of it was real. The horrors, the fantasies, the past, present, and future were all shadows of one reality that she couldn't find. She huddled on herself, covering her eyes and screaming with a thousand voices. Then the shadow. The ever present calm that took her to a place she did not wish to be, but always took her home again. She followed where the tall shadow led. A man with no face and hair dark as night. Who took her hands and held her steady against the chaos of visions she could not possibly grasp. 

"Why?" she asked, but as always he said nothing. Only showed her again blood on the snow and dead eyes. Terrible laugher and a horrible mark. Black as dried blood. Written in dried blood.

Written in her blood.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather woke with a start, sweat drenched and breathing hard. It took her some time to realize where she was, the astringent sterile smell finally telling her she was held in the medical facilities of the school. She could hear Madam Pomfrey busy with something across the room. The Nurse had obviously not heard Heather's waking. Which was fine by Heather. Carefully, she slid from the narrow white sheeted bed and, finding her shoes, sneaked past Madame Pomfrey, not an easy task and had a couple narrow escapes where the woman had nearly caught the Hufflepuff girl. 

Heather would be worse than mortified if Pomfrey made a fuss over her. 

Slipping out into the hall, she made silent way towards the student halls and her own bedroom. It seemed late enough that she might be able to slip into her bed unnoticed.

Well, she had hoped that would be the case, but the apparation of a particularly annoying school ghost rather killed those hopes.

"A student? Out at this hour? I should tell Mr. Filch, I should!"

"Evening Peeves, tortured any rats lately?" she replied cordially

"You, always the stuck up one aren't you. Well, I'll get you this time I will!" the ghost exclaimed excitedly.

Heather only raised an eyebrow.

"Ok, and I'll tell the Bloody Baron about it." Peeves went quiet.

"You wouldn't, would you?"

"I wouldn't have to if you would just mind your own business."

Peeves made a face, then said, "Well you ain't a Slytherin so you likely can't even FIND the Baron!"

Damn. She knew the ghost would figure out her ruse eventually, but she had only hoped to frighten him off long enough to get away.

"What is going on here?" a cold voice and a shadow came up behind Heather. 

"This girl is wandering the halls after curfew!" Peeves crowed excitedly, smirking at the girl who only stuck her tongue out at the poltergeist.

"I know. She was likely going back to her rooms after Madame Pomfrey released her. This is after all, the hall adjacent to the hospital wing. As I recall YOU, Peeves, are not allowed here," Severus Snape said with cool calm logic.

Peeves stared with a dropped jaw. In fact, his ghostly jaw was likely to be found in the dungeons. The ghost faded from view and Heather didn't breath a sigh of relief, only turned to look at the teacher who stared at her as if sizing her up for something then pursing his lips like she wasn't quite up to standard but he didn't have any choice in the matter. Heather wasn't sure she liked this, being considered like a bit of beef at market.

"Um... I should go."

"Did Madam Pomfrey release you Ms. Fletcher?" he asked suddenly yet at the same time seemed to know the answer.

She bit her lip and wouldn't meet his eyes. 

"I see," he said. "Very well follow me"

"But...."

"Five points from Hufflepuff! Follow me," he snapped and Heather could only firm her lip and follow.

She didn't really know where he took her. Down many halls until she was completely lost and starting to feel distinctly uneasy. Then he turned, reaching into a sleeve. Heather was ready to run if he pulled his wand. Instead she saw her journal drop to the floor at her feet. She jumped and he raised a calculated eyebrow. _He loves scaring people, doesn't he?_ she mused sarcastically to herself. She hated that he DID look amused. She didn't make a move to get her journal. Why did he have it to start with?

He didn't leave her waiting long. 

"You have quite a vivid imagination, Ms. Fletcher."

_Of course_, she thought to herself, _he read it._

"At least it seemed entertaining at the time," she replied.

"You play these word games so very badly, Ms. Fletcher." He sounded so very bored it made her want to yawn. "Let's say I know what it is you see in your mind. What grips you in moments of complete insanity. What seems so very real but cannot be true."

Heather was stoutly staring at her toes though she listened intently. He made a movement, not quite touching her but waving his long fingers before her eyes forcing her to follow them mutely to gaze into his cold saturnine face. 

"You know of what I speak."

She nodded biting her lip and feeling her chest constrict. Did he know? Did he really? Was she just going mad and he was now going to report her? Be rid of yet one more good for nothing half breed witch?_ Mudblood_, her mind filled from those nasty whispers she'd heard so much in her dreams.

"You see a possible future. One of many, but your vision is not clear. It's too distorted and unfocused yet. You don't understand what you see, thus you push it away only making it worse," he stated calmly, as if giving a list of ingredients for a potion in class. He waited a moment and when she said nothing he grew impatient with her. "Speak up girl!"

"I.. I don't understand.. You say I, see the future like Professor Trelawney?" Snape snorted.

"I should hope a touch more reliably." 

Heather felt a blush creep to her cheeks. Many made fun of the Divination's teacher who tended to predict doom and gloom every other week. Heather had always just thought of her as a touch mad though in a harmless way. But to hear her dreams were like what Trelawny did made Heather a bit nervous. Would people view her that way too? Harmless but a couple bricks short of a load?

Having her attention, Snape nodded. 

"Now. I want you to meet me after hours in my class. I will help you sort through these images you see. Once we have a clearer image, then we shall take this to Headmaster Dumbledore."

All Heather could do was nod though Professor Snape's expression clearly said that he wanted a verbal answer. Swallowing hard, she nodded, again saying quietly, "Yes, sir." 

Snape again gave her the impression he was gauging her value and finding her lacking badly. Then with a an abrupt movement he turned on his heel.

"Very well. I suggest you go back to your room now. I will expect to see you in the morning." 

Then he was gone.

It took a long moment before Heather realized he had left her standing alone in an unfamiliar hallway. She stamped her foot. The least he could have done was taken her somewhere she'd recognize! Impossible man! If he knew she had visions why didn't he just take her to Dumbledore now? Why insist on personally 'helping' her? She picked up her journal and glanced at it frowning. It seemed lighter somehow. Flipping through it she soon found why.

Most of her notes and drawings were missing. She found herself fuming. Why did he keep them? After several long moments ranging in emotions between anger and complete embarrassment she turned herself and after awhile of wandering the halls found someplace familiar. Once she knew where she was, it didn't take long to find the Hufflepuff entrance and then her own bed without anyone noticing. 

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather woke as she had for a long time now - with a headache and a cold sweat. She wrote down her dream as became her habit, carefully storing her journal sans half the pages under her mattress. She was not going to give the Potions teacher another chance to go merrily tearing pages out of her private property. She bathed before the other girls and went down to breakfast. Seated at the end of the table, no one joined her, as she was accustomed to. It had been several years since she joined the ranks of Hogwarts and she had never really made a friend. Her only real friend she saw on holidays back home. A Muggle girl with whom she spent their summer vacation reading teen magazines and playing by a small creek that ran behind the other girl's house. Neither of them wrote during the school year, both being too busy in their studies. But come vacation, they would always meet by the creek and eat Mars Bars and talk about normal girl things. No real fussing or personal things. Likely they would separate after school and find other things to do. Marry or move or go to university. 

Heather was musing about her own possible future as to whether she would try university or just stick with her high school education when she saw Madam Pomfrey scanning the Great Hall looking for someone. 

And to her horror the nurse's eyes fell on her with a certain grim tone.

So Heather had to put up being made a fuss over in front of the entire school to her utter mortification. 

  



	2. Chapter 2

Finally, Heather had convinced Madame Pomfrey that she was fine. Which was just in time for Heather, barely making it to Professor Snape's class. Last to come in, she took the only table with an open spot and sat waiting.

"If everyone is now here," Snape said, prowling the front of the class and acting as if Heather's arrival was late, though the bells could now be heard ringing for class to start, "we shall begin." 

He stood still for a brief moment by his desk.

"I assume everyone now has their essays ready to turn in?"

Essay? Heather felt sick suddenly. She didn't know about an essay. Her complete horror must have shown, for as Snape made his way down the rows accepting papers, he paused by her only long enough to say, "I expect to see you later to give you your make-up exam."

Her knees turned to complete gelatin. He didn't expect her to know of an essay she couldn't have known of at least! He brushed past, but Heather didn't relax. Make-ups with Snape never happened. He expected one to get their work right the first time. She felt faint again. Maybe if she passed out she could put it off for a few days? Oh, but then there was the fact he demanded her meeting him over the Divination thing. She then knew her fate was sealed. She could never dream of escaping the 'gentle attentions' of the Potions Master forever. Why me? she thought to herself, her head pounding painfully and her breakfast an uneasy cold mass in the pit of her stomach. Any more personal attentions from the Professor and she would be very sick in her cauldron. 

Luckily, she did not have to worry about Snape paying more attention to her. After the comment and the following lecture over the sorry state of the hastily written essays, he had them take notes for preparation of the Transfiguration potion they would be studying. This one was much more complicated, involving many steps. If Heather had not felt so ill, she would have been fascinated. Even Snape's dry dictation could not totally suck the life from something bordering on the side of interesting.

Class continued and Heather was glad to be free of it as much as the other students, and while she was not the first out the door she was not the last either. Her day continued and while Charms had always been her favorite class, she found her mind wandering the entire time. She had to repeatedly force herself to pay attention to the diminutive voice of Professor Flitwick. 

When lunch came, she hardly paid much mind to the food, as she was not feeling very hungry and also rather wishing for a cheeseburger. Pumpkin juice and everything else was fine, but there was something to be said for a Pepsi and a cheeseburger with fries. 

The afternoon dragged. She had another explosion of pain in her head, but no visions, sometime mid-afternoon, and spent the rest of her day with various people asking if she felt well. She was beginning to feel a touch put out about it. Heather stoutly refused to go back to see Madame Pomfrey. She rather wished everyone would leave her alone.

With the descending feeling of ultimate doom, nightfall came and she found herself standing outside the Potions Classroom. It felt odd going in, knowing that Professor Snape was there and was expecting her. Straightening her robes, she pulled back her mousy hair into loose pigtails with no hopes of it staying, but at least giving her an appearance of more confidence than she actually felt.

"You," Snape did not even look up from the paper he was correcting at his desk as she walked in, "are late." He glanced up briefly, dark eyes showing nothing from under pencil thin brows.

Heather thought about giving an excuse, but had a feeling he knew how long she had been standing outside his classroom. So she said nothing at all. Just gave a one shoulder shrug and crashed into a chair near one of the tables. She rubbed her temples, really wishing the headache would go away.

She was shocked when thrust under her nose was a foul smelling brew, uncorked, and she backed up with a sneeze, shaking her head. Snape's expression was cold.

"Inhale," he ordered and she had no choice but to comply. 

She blinked when she looked around, realizing the pain was gone. Professor Snape placed a stopper on the bottle and set it on the table next to her.

"Take this with you. When you feel even the slightest twinge of pain, breathe from the bottle. I expect you to pay more attention to class tomorrow." 

She looked at the tiny bottle with its sticky greenish substance like a savior. She had already killed the bottle of Tylenol her father sent her when she asked for it. If she asked for more, her parents would begin to worry. Besides, the pharmaceutical drugs hardly even cut the pain that thudded dully behind her eyes.

"Now. I need more details on these visions of yours," Snape snapped before she could try and thank him, going to the front of the class watching her intensely. As if this was just another of his classes, and she was just the exceptionally dim student he was forced to put up with.

So she began as clearly and precisely as she could. He would fling sudden questions at her at random intervals, throwing off her thoughts and sending her into a state of flustered confusion. 

When this happened he'd yell "CONCENTRATE!" and fly off with more detailed questions. 

She felt stretched and had to resort to the bottle of which she was unsure she wanted to know the contents.

Feeling tired and thinned, she sagged in the chair while Professor Snape, to her complete disgust, seemed just as fresh as when he started despite being more active than she was. 

Finally though, the intolerable man sat behind his desk straightening papers and seeming deep in thought. Maybe he's considering speeches to embarrass students for tomorrow? Her thoughts rambled as she cuddled the tiny vile of freedom from pain in her hands, colasped in her chair and feeling sleepy, mostly from exhaustion, lack of sleep, long days of work mixed with this evenings, hard thinking, and mixed emotions. 

Finally Snape looked up.

"We shall do your make-up exam." His words were quiet and the comment was bland, as if he was making conversation about the weather.

Lovely, she thought, of course he would wait till I'm too tired to think straight. Greasy haired, tallow skinned, sadistic freak.

So the second inquisition began. By the end of it, Heather felt she hadn't done too awful. She had always been better with her oral exams over essays. Professor Snape did not give any sign on to what he thought at all about the matter but after a few more minutes of silence after it was over he said darkly, "Well don't nod off to sleep in my classroom. Get yourself to your own dorm." 

"Here, tomorrow. 7:30 sharp. No excuses," he said as she reached the doorway. 

She bit her lip and nodded, "Yes, sir," and gratefully fled before he found something else to say. The halls were completely devoid of anything living and the moon had begun to rise over the lake. She hardly noticed anything till she got back to the Hufflepuff common room and found it also empty. It was late. Taking another inhale of the bottle, she tucked it under her pillow and, not bothering to disrobe, she kicked off her shoes and curled up, not even remembering when her head hit the pillow.

  


~~~~~~~~

  


It didn't seem so scary now, all the reflections. Heather stared about her, still feeling just as disoriented and confused. She spun suddenly when she felt the shadow over her shoulder. Staring at her was a figure she felt she should recognize, but could not place. 

"No! I don't want to see that!" she shouted at the uncaring figure who continued to wait for her. Watching her. 

She didn't know how it was, but she stood on an overhang, staring at a house burning against the sky, cold and clear. The moon, seen though the smoke, was red as blood and quarter full. Voices screamed and laughed on the wind, tossed with ash and debris and the smell of death. She pushed back her hair with a sob, turning to find her shadow.

"Why?" she screamed, as suddenly she found herself on her knees, pain tearing through her shoulder. A black mark hung before her blurring eyes. Written in her own blood.

"What does it mean!?" She covered her head with one arm, the other hanging down at her side, weeping as the screams grew louder, as if the dead demanded that she recognize what happened and tell someone. She glanced up to see her shadow watching her coldly, as if expecting her to know what this all meant.

"Who are you?" she screamed at the darkness. "Who are you?!"

~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather sat up when someone flung back her bed curtains. 

"Wake up! You're going to be late again, Heather!" She blinked fuzzily up at the cheerfully chubby face of her roommate. "First time in ages you've been in your own bed!" 

Ginger looked pleased about it as if it was something she had done. Heather snorted, but got up and hunted for a clean set of garments. She frowned, as most her things where missing and then realized someone must have taken them to the laundry for her. She bit her lip and while Ginger satisfied herself that Heather wasn't going to nod off again, bounded down the stairs to the common room.

Heather found she was going to have to put something together that was not quite uniform. All she had was a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with Tweety Bird in one corner, holding a sign that stated "Go Away" in bold type. Her slightly rumpled robe from the previous day went over the ensemble and she hoped if she kept it closed a bit more in front, no one would notice.

Of course this meant Professor Snape was the first to notice and there went yet another five points from Hufflepuff. Heather was beginning to get some dark looks from her classmates.

  


~~~~~~~~

  


Professor Snape sat at his desk making sure he had the ingredients for the potion he would soon have the students make. Checking his supply lists, he pulled out a small silver pocket watch with the Slytherin House symbol on the cover. A gift one year from his young charges. Ms. Fletcher was late. He was aware she would be. After all, it had been him who arranged to have her things washed. The girl was incapable when it came to thinking of such things for herself at the moment. She would likely would be disgustingly grateful for the Fumes he gave her. A common enough potion to use in cases when such a strong gift started suddenly. 

The mind could not handle the flood of information, and unfortunately for Ms. Fletcher, her mind was lacking more so than normal. His lips twisted into a sneer, thus making her headaches proportionally worse. 

Five minutes to 8:00, the girl finally made her way into the dark dungeon.

"You are late." 

"I know. I apologize," she said, at least having the decency to not beg and grovel, although that would have been amusing for Snape. He decided not to punish her this time and only nodded, leaning back in his chair while waiting for her to settle herself onto a stool nearby. "Have the dreams become clearer, Ms. Fletcher?"

She bit her lip and nodded that he was indeed correct. Severus raised a brow archly, wishing for a verbal answer. He needed her to begin talking of her own. Willingly. Or he may miss a crucial piece of information she may forget about in a panic. He steepled his fingers as she took a breath and gave a proper vocal response.

"Tell me." Severus waited patiently for the girl to gather her thoughts.

About ten minutes passed before Ms. Fletcher spoke again, telling him, without glossing facts and details, what had happened. Same vision though with minor alterations and additions.

Blood moon, fire, blood on snow and death. A dark mark written in her own blood. It was a specific event she spoke of, with a few images that could have more omen like meanings. One that she had repeated in varying forms for some time. Though he was glad it was in a slightly less dramatic way than the day she attacked the tables in his classroom.

"What confuses me is the shadow. I mean I feel like I know him," she finally finished.

"Of course, this shadow is someone who is closely linked to this event. It is your focus," he responded. "Not all visions have a focus. Some are brought on by emotions or what you think or feel about something. Or even by something that isn't related to any of these and is what they then call a 'prophecy'.

" Your location of Mr. Longbottom's toad for instance, most likely brought on by feelings of pity for the hapless boy. This shadow is an outside force you use to direct your mind to these particular dreams. If we locate the source then more than likely the dreams may stop, or else stop when the event in them happens."

"December. It's December. The moon is quarter full and the star patterns of to the north Draco, south Gemini and Saturn between them. Jupiter is right below the view of the blood moon." she responded instantly. Severus raised a brow higher. So the girl did have other interests it seems than meet the eye. She blushed under his gaze.

"I use to star gaze with my father. We spent a year doing nothing but study charts and making our own calendar of sorts in the backyard. Like a mini stone hedge among the pansies." she elaborated as if she felt she had to defend where she gained this information.

Snape shrugged slightly, his lips twitching in a touch of approval. With her eyes down to the floor, finding her shoes most interesting, she had not seen it. It took a lot of patience to map the sky. Even the astrology students were seldom that involved with what they observed, but it also gave a more defined time frame 

The last quarter moon was the 16th. Snape's frowned deepened. Why the last quarter? What could anyone gain from that time frame? Or was it something else?

There had been many names in her list of those marked for death, most he had researched and found slight connections to Voldemort. Some gave testimony against known Death Eaters. Some Aurors or a part of the Order of the Phoenix, but none were of high placement. Severus frowned deeply. Thinking hard, he was partially aware of when Heather began talking again, as if she was nervous and needed to fill the silence. 

Tuning in to her words, he realized that at least if she filled the silence, it wasn't with useless chatter. She talked of detail in the images, some of the passing feelings that, for some reason, stood out to her mind. She described in great detail her source, though of that, there still remained precious little information. A silent shadow who both frightened her, but at the same time did not. It was some sort of authority figure to her.

Male a figure of authority. Someone she was familiar with in more than mere passing then. He focused on her physical description. Darkness. It was more than just a vagueness. But then it must be related to what the figure did or was. Tall and very thin. Stalking the area like a caged animal. Graceful.

Suddenly Severus' eyes snapped onto the girl and she fell into sudden confused silence. He stood and began to prowl the room. 

No, it can't be. It must be two ways. Some connection between both the Seer and the Source. His thoughts wandered trying to reason it out. All the improbabilities were suddenly coming together in a clear image that made him feel slightly ill. What was the connection? Something unconscious, perhaps? He rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as he concentrated.

"Sir?" Ms. Fletcher sounded worried.

Coming to a sudden decision, Severus stepped back into a shadow. She frowned, wondering why he did such a thing, until all that was left was a dark familiar shape.

"Sir?" Now her voice held a touch of panic.

"It seems we now know whom your source is."

It was Severus Snape. 

  


~~~~~~~~

  


Heather was still in shock the next morning. The work and conversations of her visions lasted nearly till dawn. Figuring out her Source did not help. Professor Snape did not know why he would become her Source, but for herself it was easy, Snape was an authority figure in her life. Someone she looked to for guidance and answers. The student-mentor bond, but for Professor Snape it was not that simple to explain. Heather only had the feeling if she knew more about him then she might figure out why. She had a feeling it was an emotional link rather than a normal one. Everything else seemed to be emotional for her. Pity, love, and so on. Guilt perhaps? She did not see Professor Snape consciously or unconsciously seeking out a divinator's mind for any other reason. 

Although admittedly it's hard to see him choosing someone at all. He's so self-contained. What is in these visions that he would want someone else to know? Something in his life? Past? Something he hated about himself or ... Her thoughts where cut into as she walked a hallway towards her first class of the day. Her thoughts were cut into as she walked down a hallway towards her first class of the day. She glanced up, as passing through the mass of students was the Headmaster, who was looking directly at her. 

"Ms. Fletcher!" he greeted jovially. Heather was starting to feel concerned, what had she done to get so much attention from the teachers and staff? Professor Dumbledore stopped a few paces before her. Students were glancing covertly as they made their own rushing way towards class.

"Mind if I have a word with you?" he asked, eyes sparkling merrily.

"Um…I have to get to class, sir. My house is mad enough at me for losing as many points as I have to Professor Snape." Ok, that would work! she thought cheerfully.

"Oh yes, we can't have that, I shall walk with you then. Lemon drop?" His response made her sigh in frustration and it took a moment to register the small package in her face. She took one of the candies without thinking. Sucking on the slightly sour and very familiar Muggle confection allowed her to keep her mouth shut as the Headmaster rambled mindlessly on about many subjects. His subject of the moment being he had been having a problem with losing socks. He'd send two socks out to the laundry and only one returned. He even pulled up the end of his robes to show that indeed one sock was striped, the other was spotted leopard print. Heather pretended interest in the rumblings of a senile old man barely restraining a fit of giggles. 

"I must say, speaking of your first class with the Professor Snape, how is your extra credit going?" he suddenly said.

"Extra credit?" she responded stupidly.

"Yes, you are in his classroom often these days."

"Oh, no. Its not class, but something else entirely."

"Oh?" The tone said he would very much like to know.

Heather had a sudden, and scary, vision of how that must have sounded. She felt slightly ill. It was true she had no boyfriends, but her and SNAPE? The thought made her want to go have a nice little picnic beneath the Whomping Willow.

"No! I mean its nothing weird or anything, he just chose to help me with a rather, complicated problem." She really didn't want to spill her guts about the disturbing images to the Headmaster quite yet.

Dumbledore looked at her sideways, eyes sparkling merrily as if he could read her thoughts at that moment.

"Very well, but he should have more respect for your sleep, Ms. Fletcher. You were hardly keeping your eyes open all through breakfast. I had expected any moment to see you nod off into your porridge." She was saved from answering by the arrival at class. That moment the bells rung for class to start and Heather felt the familiar dead weight of breakfast in her stomach.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore said, "I am very sorry for keeping you. I will have a word with Professor Snape then." He nodded his head like this was a wonderful idea and Heather wondered if he was really off his rocker. She would have just lost five points, but he wanted to talk with Snape. How many points would she lose now?

They entered class together. Professor Snape paused, his frown deepening when he had looked up from his desk to reprimand Heather for her tardiness and spotted the Headmaster with her. Heather quickly got to an empty spot at a table trying her best to look as inconspicuous as possible. There was a quiet conversation at the front of the class between Dumbledore and Snape of which, no matter how the students strained, none could hear what was said. Heather sunk further down into her shell when she noticed the slightly closed expression of contained rage in the Potions Master. Then, with a cheerful smile Dumbledore wandered out of the classroom offering several students candy. Heather watched Snape fume more till the Headmaster was gone.

Everyone waited in a state of near panic. It was obvious the Professor was angry; the twitch in his cheek as he ground his teeth, along with the sudden light to his normally dead black eyes gave him away. 

"Should you not all be taking NOTES right now?" Almost immediately, there was the industrious sound of quills and parchment. He wandered around the class, leaning as an intimidating cloud of malignant hate over students' shoulders, watching them all carefully. Heather felt absolutely no relief for not losing her five points, instead resorting often to the small bottle tucked in the front of her robes to ease the growing headache behind her eyes.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~

  


A few minutes to 7:30 and Heather stood outside the dungeon classroom. At this moment it felt more as if she neared a dungeon. She bit her lip really hoping the Professor wasn't still angry.

She touched the door to find it suddenly yanked open. Heather flattened herself against the wall as Snape dived out of the classroom without even seeing her. She blinked in shock as he dashed, robes billowing behind him like figurative wings. Heather stood a long time plastered to the wall, trying to figure out why the Professor had just left so suddenly and not sure if he would return. Since she wasn't sure and didn't want to find herself in more trouble she entered the dungeon and made herself comfortable at one of the tables. 

She was nearly going to just nod off to sleep when the familiar and dreaded sound of cackling filled her ears, 

"Still here? He's not, I know for who you wait."

"Peeves" she said in a tone of disgust, "I'm in the Potions Classroom, there can be only one person I'm waiting for and it is not you," she replied with a touch of frustration. 

"Well, if you would be a little nicer, I may tell you where he went," Peeves went on in his best 'I know something you don't' voice. 

"And why should I? Next time I'm in the hallway you'll just call Mr. Filch." 

Peeves sniffed, insulted, "Maybe."

"Oh, no maybes about it, you exist to cause trouble," she said dryly, knowing she was digging her own grave and not really caring at the moment.

Peeves actually turned several shades of pale color. (Note: Perhaps you could say 'several shades paler') A fascinating thing to watch. 

"Fine! Then I won't tell you he's in his private quarters!" and the ghost was gone.

"Um…" Heather pursed her lips and decided not to say what happened to come to mind on that subject. 

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather stood outside Snape's personal chambers chewing her lip and wondering what possessed her to do this. After a long moment of thought and feeling the complete idiot, she knocked.

A long pause passed, then the door opened carefully. Snape looked out into the hall, then his eyes landed on her with a startled look of momentary surprise. 

"Ms. Fletcher? What are you doing here at this hour?" His expression had returned to its normal impassive gaze.

"I, er, well I was…" She really felt dumb now. All the million things that came to mind all disappeared before she could net in the elusive excuses.

Professor Snape rolled his eyes and stepped aside.

"Come in. We might as well continue our study since you are obviously up."

  


~~~~~~~~~~

  


Severus had been too tired to think of the consequences of inviting her into his rooms. A suddenly called Death Eaters meeting, that thankfully had been short-lived, had brought a more disturbing light to the facts revealed to him through Ms. Fletcher's dreams. The small and warning conversation with Dumbledore had been forgotten. What he wanted was to see if they could re-direct her visions, get a clearer image.

The chamber was a small room with a shelf of books along one wall a fireplace on the other and a door that led back into another chamber. A couple comfortable chairs were placed in front of the fire which burned low. Snape had been thinking in one of those chairs when he had heard Fletcher's knock.

Resuming his seat, he waited for the girl to gain enough self-respecting courage to perch herself on the other chair, her eyes taking in every detail of a place no students had ever seen. 

He was amused for a moment, watching her take in his chambers as if seeing something very personal and not sure how she react. 

His snort brought her attention back to him with the wide-eyed gaze of an owl. 

"I think we should try something. I want to see if it is possible to direct your visions into a more channeled direction."

She nodded her face and said thoughtfully, "You want to see it too? See if there is something you may get that I miss?"

"I do not believe I will be able to actually see your vision Ms Fletcher, I only wish to direct them more to an angle I wish to know." he responded though intrigued by the idea of experiencing the vision himself.

She nodded, and then looked thoughtful, her chin against her chest and her brow wrinkled. 

"So how do we do this?"

"I need you to relax. Sit back in the chair and just listen to my voice." The girl obediently did as she was told, closing her eyes so she could relax and not be distracted by anything in the room. Severus turned his attention to the fire and gazing into it, he spoke softly, making Fletcher strain to concentrate on his voice.

It was a complete shock when, not only did she fall into the desired trance, but took him with her.

  


~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather sat among the broken images again. She looked up suddenly when she clearly saw Professor Snape, and he looked rather ill.

"Sir?" She stood from her crouch wondering if she was seeing him more clearly because she knew who her Source was now.

  


~~~~~~~~~~

Severus' eyes landed on the girl watching him with a growing look of confusion. He felt lost, tumbling among the images that she seemed to shrug off like water. Then he fell back and she ran forward shouting something he couldn't make out. Falling through an endless darkness, there was a quarter blood moon in view. Foggy smells of smoke and blood. He landed in snow looking up to see Fletcher holding a wounded arm and staring into the sky. The air was much colder in the vision than should be for a winter day. Faceless masks danced around a bloodied altar where a figure he could not make out thrashed in pain as they used magic to stretch the poor bastard. A familiar hissing laugh mixed among the mocking voices made Snape's blood run cold. Voldemort.

Next to him, he saw the dead eyes of a woman, her hair mixed with the blood staining the snow red. The red spread, covering the entire scene. Turning black, into a mark, the Dark Mark. The same one branded into his forearm. 

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heather came to, jolting out of her vision and covering her face with her hands for a moment, before seeking the potion for the inevitable dull pain. 

Next to her, Snape made a slightly strangled sound, then murmured into the silence that hung between them, "Do pass that over when you are done with it."

She blinked and handed it over meekly, not sure why he would want the potion. He inhaled and setting it on the small table between the chairs, covered his face.

"That went, better than expected," he finally said.

"You were there, then?" Heather found that would explain why it seemed she led instead of her shadow, why the image of Snape had been so clear. 

"I do not think it is advisable we try that particular thing again." Heather grinned sarcastically. They sat in complete silence.


	3. chapter 3

  


Heather woke suddenly, curled up in the Potions Master's cushioned chair. Snape was nowhere to be seen and she was still in his personal chambers. She must have fallen asleep. She had a vague image of Trevor in the girl's bathroom. A girl ghost trying to flush the toad down the toilet. 

You have awaken," was the droll comment from the other room. She looked up, catching a glimpse of something similar to this room but with more doors and more things. So this must be a reception chamber, the next his personal sitting chamber with the bedroom and bathing room off of that. The entire area still felt like various guard rooms in a dungeon. Which at one point it likely was.

"Yeah," she said, still fuzzy from sleep. She ran her hand through her hair which was starting to feel like Professor Snape's looked. Greasy. She needed a bath.

"I suggest you run then. There is not much time till breakfast." 

Heather nodded, getting up, then turning back briefly as she snagged back her potion sitting on the end table. She darted out of the chamber quickly. Snape watched her, buttoning up the last silver stud on the collar of his black silk robe.

Heather had planned on running to the dorms and getting changed, but the image of Trevor being flushed down the toilet bugged her. She spotted a couple ghosts passing by having a friendly morning conversation with each other over the upcoming ghost ball. 

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but do you know of a particular bathroom with a resident ghost who likes to flush toilets?" 

Oh, how polite!" the Victorian lady exclaimed, fanning herself with a tattered bloody fan.

The other ghost thought a moment. "You must mean the young Ms. Myrtle. In the girl's lavatory, second floor."

"Thank you!" Heather shouted, already running that direction.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~

The same two ghosts soon ran into Peeves. They both looked barely tolerant and the lady covered her disapproving scowl with her fan. Peeves had his 'I know something you don't' expression that made both ghosts roll their eyes.

  


~~~~~~~~

  


Heather reached the girl's bathroom to hear indignant screaming. She darted in, just in time to see a girl near her own age dressed in school uniform and distinctly transparent stomping her foot and pointing at the toad. 

Heather got to the toad before the ghost could decide to do anything to it and, holding the squirming creature, she smiled pleasantly at the ghost.

"I'm sorry, I know whose toad this is, and little Trevor here seems to have a wandering instinct."

The ghost shrieked and dove into a stall. The sound of a toilet flushing was Heather's only answer. The other girl only shook her head, glad that she did not normally come to this bathroom.

"Now Trevor, Neville is worried sick about you. Do you know that?" she told the toad, walking out into the hall behind her. She could hear loud sounds of water running. The bathroom would likely be flooded soon.

_That ghost really didn't like toads_, she mused and headed for breakfast. She would give Trevor back to Neville there.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Rumors fly faster than fact, as Snape discovered, finding himself under the uncomfortable gaze of Minerva McGonagall, along with the tearful and hurt eyes of Sprout. He was sitting and eating quietly, wondering what was going on and noticing some rather knowing smirks from the Slytherin table. Aside from becoming a very disturbing image, he was starting to wonder if he had fallen asleep and this was one of those dreams where he came in with no trousers. A discreet check ensured he was fully clothed in loose dress slacks; his Renaissance inspired shirt was buttoned correctly, as was the black silk robe over it. 

So this was no dream. What could have happened to put him in worse standing with the other teachers than normal? Let alone the mixed annoyingly knowing and horrified gazes of the students? He shrugged it off and went back to his breakfast, deciding this morning may be a good one to leave early. 

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather came rushing into breakfast late. Passing the Gryffindor table, she did not notice the covert glances of many students or hear the whispers. She dropped Trevor near Neville who was ecstatic at finding his toad again since he had been moaning his loss over pumpkin juice. She got to her seat, sitting hastily, hoping she hadn't attracted too much attention when she noticed the Slytherins snickering at their table.

While it wasn't that uncommon a sight to see the Slytherin table acting like a pack of crazed hyenas, it was odd that they were looking at her. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing overtly about the hall. Slytherin wasn't the only one to take sudden interest in her. She chewed her lip and glanced towards the high table. Dumbledore was seemingly oblivious to the going on of the hall munching a pastry and trying to keep the crumbs from getting trapped in his beard. Hagrid was talking with the Dark Arts teacher about something involving a rather oddly described creature she never recalled hearing of before. Snape was concentrating on his own breakfast, while McGonagall and Sprout glared.

Heather decided everyone must have gone completely bonkers and tried her best to ignore the attentions and pick at breakfast till she could escape to class.

  


~~~~~~~~~

  


Severus marched down the hall in a fit of pique. When he had risen, he found himself followed by both McGonagall and Sprout, who then went on him about the indecency of having a student in his personal chambers. At first, he had been confused then he remembered that he did indeed have a student in his chambers the previous night. That did not bother him though; the idea that both of the teachers before him were under the impression that more had happened between them did. Severus had given his usual insulting answers to them and they left him alone. 

Then he met Dumbledore, who all but asked if something was going on between him and Ms Fletcher.

"No, no, and no!" Severus snapped at the Headmaster. "Last night," he covered his eyes for a moment, "I was not thinking and did not realize someone had been watching." 

"Then what did happen?" Dumbledore had asked, now seemingly more curious.

"Something that I will only discuss with you in private," he responded and stormed off down the hallway. Who had seen him admit Fletcher to his chambers? And who started the rumors? Normally, such rumors about him hardly bothered him. What others thought about him meant little to the Potions Master, but a scandal like this could cost him his job.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather managed to make it to class. Which was worse since Snape was not there yet and her fellow Hufflepuffs glared her direction. The Ravenclaws did not seem too overly interested, which was fortunate since the only space at a table open at the moment was next to a Ravenclaw named Tommy. He gave her an encouraging smile and leaned over saying, "I don't buy into rumors myself. So just ignore them, they'll get over it and focus on whatever other rumor pops up next." 

Heather felt a little sick. All this was because of a RUMOR? And what exactly was the rumor about?

That moment before she could ask Tommy what the whole thing was over was the moment Professor Snape charged into the room in quite a state. He looked very angry.

"NOTES NOW!" he shouted and again, everyone spent the morning scribbling down notes from the chalkboard. Periodically, Snape would stand and lecture them, but mostly he hovered over his desk and glared balefully. 

At the end of class while everyone was being dismissed, Snape looked her direction with an unreadable gaze that Heather had become familiar with as 'I must yell at you'. She waited, holding back in getting her things together so it would only seem as if she was the last out of class. It helped that she had been so nervous that she dropped several quills, which she had only been lucky Snape had not noticed, or her fellow classmates would have had other reasons to glare. 

She got her things back in order and taking another inhale of the potion she carried with her, she waited for Snape to storm. Instead, he drummed his fingers for a few seconds on his desk.

"Tonight, meet with me in Dumbledore's Office. I believe his password is "sweet tooth" at the moment. Dismissed." Heather nodded and left quickly. So he felt it was time to inform the Headmaster of what they were doing? 

She ran into Peeves outside the classroom, and he looked unusually smug with himself.

"What do you want, Peeves?" and she wondered what the poltergeist had it in for her about. Seemed to become a regular thing running into the ghost.

"In a bit of trouble, are we?" he sneered in a way that gave Heather the feeling THIS was the cause of this morning's craziness.

"Oh no, not at all. Everything is completely fine. In fact, I've been invited to talk with the Headmaster tonight," she said sweetly. And as she hoped, Peeves took that as meaning she was in trouble and after chuckling evilly to himself, had left her be. She shook her head and headed off to her next class.

  


~~~~~~~~~~

  


Severus paced in Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster had of course offered him a seat, but he had preferred to walk off his anger. The entire day had been much like that morning and it was beginning to become extremely annoying. 

Yes, he did have a reputation. He had worked very hard to build that reputation. To find, though, that they would think of him doing something so…_profane_ was infuriating.

_She's not even that pretty. If I were to take up courting students, I would at least pick one with both looks and possibly some brains_, he mulled to himself, _as well as being from my own house_.

There was a discreet knock and Ms. Fletcher poked her head into the office.

  


~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather sat in a chair across from the Headmaster while Snape continued to prowl the room.

"So then, what is it you two were doing that has the entire school in an uproar?" Dumbledore finally spoke.

"I think you can blame Peeves for that. He's got it in for me for some reason and a chance to spread rumors was likely beyond his limited scope of resistance."

Snape snorted and Heather hid a grin, as she was pleased to see him sit and at least fume without prowling like a cornered leopard.

"Sir," Heather started again after a moment's thought, "Professor Snape has been helping me with…visions."

"Oh?"

"Well yeah. Um, I keep seeing a rather…disturbing event. One that the Professor is, er, connected to." She paused to find herself cut off rudely by Snape.

"She sees the Dark Mark."

Dumbledore did manage to look concerned. Although not surprised.

"And death, a family dead. Killed by the Dark Lord," Snape said.

"Are you sure, Severus?" the Headmaster asked, his voice strained.

Snape nodded, his face cool. "I saw her vision with my own eyes. We have till December to save that family if we can." He then glanced over at Heather as if debating something and then rolled up his sleeve. Heather's eyes went huge and the blood drained from her face.

He wore the Dark Mark. Snape was a Death Eater. Heather felt like she might just go ahead and pass out right then. Though it did suddenly explain some things. Making the reasons for him being her Source more probable and why the visions dealt with Death Eaters. 

Why he tore those pages from her journal.

I was talking about him, I described what HE did in the past, or at least things he witnessed and was familiar with. The idea made her more than a little ill. The things in her dreams where horrible, and the idea of her teacher involved…She decided not to think of that too hard right now.

"A meeting was called last night."

_Why he left so suddenly_, she thought, still dazed from the revelation.

"Afterwards, I decided to try and see if I could clear her vision up more by putting her into a trance. Since Ms. Fletcher came to my chambers to check on me, for I am afraid I left her rather in a hurry, I tried it then while things were still clear in my mind." Despite revealing what he was, Snape seemed disinclined to talk readily about the details with Heather there.

Dumbledore nodded, his lips a thin line that disappeared into his beard.

Snape continued, "I did not expect she would take me into her vision as well. Her skills are stronger than I expected. She has a true gift."

Dumbledore thought a long moment. "Then perhaps we should see about moving her to Trelawney's class."

Snape blew up, "And ruin her Sight?!"

Heather watched amusedly as he actually came out of his chair and leaned over Dumbledore's desk as he would one of his own students. Dumbledore remained unmoved by the erratic behavior of the Professor. 

"The girl has the clearest vision I've ever seen, I will not have her sight tampered with. Nothing against Trelawney, she has her own vision, but she has become to engrossed with seeing death that she refuses to follow any other path!"

Dumbledore held up his hands in surrender. "I see your point, Severus. I won't have Heather move. But who will teach her? We can't have her gift go rogue."

Snape sat back into the chair. "I will," he stated, back to his bland self. Moment of passion passed.

Heather broke in before they could completely decide things for her and to protect Snape from awkward questions. She didn't think he would want the Headmaster knowing about him being her Source.

"I do not mind. He has already helped me a lot. I'm not afraid anymore." 

_Because I know I will always come back, He won't leave me alone in those horrible dreams. Besides not all the dreams are bad. I saved Trevor this morning right?_ she thought to herself.

Dumbledore thought hard on this.

"Very well. I will deal with the rumors, but I do suggest we restrict meetings to a legitimate classroom setting. Also, I want to be kept up to date on everything that goes on."

Heather nodded, then Snape said quietly to her, "Go off to bed."

She nodded and left, hearing faint conversation behind her. It sounded as if Snape was giving more information to the Headmaster. Some that he did not want her to hear. 

She had a strong feeling she did not want to hear it anyway.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


As December drew near, Heather's dreams began to worsen. They had figured out the most likely family to be targeted, but they could not get anyone to listen. Or even warn the family. Finally, Dumbledore had to send them a note and they only replied back saying that they would be on guard.

That only made her own dreams more violent. Being on guard wasn't the direction they should take. They should leave. Heather could only grit her teeth and periodically have fits of panicked tears in Snape's classroom where no one else would see but the Professor, who didn't care about her tears. 

Or at least he didn't make a big deal over them, to Heather's relief. Just let her get it out of her system and go on with whatever they were doing.

On Professor Snape's suggestion, Heather began to take more interest in her defense classes. She even spent more time in the library researching defense against the Dark Arts and various forms of divination.

The Potions Master kept her so busy she didn't have time to worry about what was in her visions. For as the day drew nearer, she had to finally skip classes because it would strike her at odd times. Despite becoming more intense and graphic, no changes made had turned the events in her mind. 

Snape began to plow her with a new skill (likely in desperation after she burst into tears once more in his office), Occlumency. If anything, the concentration exercises kept her too busy to feel much about the visions burning in her mind.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


Heather sat by the lake staring at the waters. She was supposed to be in class with Professor Snape. She skivved off instead. Her head hurt too much to be able to handle his frustration and temper, which had grown worse both with the ground they were losing and the nearing of the yearly Yule Ball, an event he barely tolerated most years. Heather wished she could enjoy the prospect of going, as this would be her first eligible year to go. She had never been asked before and while she was not asked this year - nor did it seem she would be either - it would have been fun to enjoy the music and watch the other students make fools of themselves.

But she found she just didn't have the heart to think of such things like Balls and Winter Holidays when all she saw in her mind was blood and death.

"I see you have found this place too," a familiar voice spoke and Heather turned from her seat to see the Headmaster nearing the spot by the lake she was at. He sat down on a stone near her and she wasn't sure if she should leave or ignore him.

"Lemon drop?" He supplied the sweet and she politely refused, feeling anything in her mouth this moment would only make her throw up.

"It is nice here," the Headmaster said after a long moment.

"Yeah," Heather responded only because she felt he wanted an answer.

"A bit nippy, but a nice day like today does make one want to skip class." 

Heather looked embarrassed. "I…I just needed to think. Alone."

"Yes, thinking. I find I have to do that from time to time." He saw her suddenly amused expression and his eyes twinkled. "Yes, even I do that thing called thinking."

Heather giggled and they sat in silence for a while. Then Heather thought of something that had been bothering her for some time.

"Sir?" she asked and the Headmaster looked at her kindly, "Does the Sorting Hat ever make mistakes?"

"Are you talking about the fact your mother was sorted into Ravenclaw?"

Heather lowered her head, embarrassed, and felt a gentle touch on her chin.

"My dear, I believe whole-heartedly that in your case, you are everything a Hufflepuff should strive to be."

"But…" she said, feeling even more embarrassed by his kindness. 

"Child, you alone with your hard work and, yes, heart, have made friends in some of the most unlikely places. You alone have seen into the darkness and found light."

She was quiet for a long moment before whispering, "You mean Professor Snape?" It was true. In a way, she did rather like the man, though he was impossible and just because he showed her some 'favor' didn't stop him from deducting House points.

"Not just one person. So many do look up to you. Or have you not noticed the young Gryffindor who comes to you first when he can't find his toad?" Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with mischief.

Heather couldn't help but grin. Poor Neville and his toad who had wandering feet. Always going for a bit of freedom, but no real sense of where would be best to go. So normally, he just got lost.

"I guess..."

"Don't think, Heather," he said quietly, making her look at him from the familiar use of her name. "Feel." 

Heather thought and then cleared her head and just let herself go. Just feeling like Dumbledore said. Then she suddenly smiled quietly, feeling like something didn't smother her so much now. 

He was right, when she stopped thinking, it was all so clear. She did belong. She wasn't as extreme as some; she was just herself. Hardworking, caring Heather. Who would make friends even (in an odd and certainly distorted way) with a sour Potions Master who wouldn't let anyone in. 

When she opened her eyes again, Headmaster Dumbledore had left and she was once again alone by the lake watching ripples and wondering if it was mermaids or the oversized Calamari surprise.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~~

  


It was halfway through the day when Heather realized what day it was. When she did, she nearly felt faint. The entire morning she ended up spending in the hospital wing since the visions refused to let her go. Come lunch, she had no appetite and managed to sneak out of the caring ministrations of Madam Pomfrey. 

Then she found herself standing outside Dumbledore's gargoyle entrance. Something drew her here. To this spot. Half formed images in her mind.

"Roteller" she said, not sure what the password was since it was the first time it wasn't a sweet and watched the door slide open. Allowing access to the stairs.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~

  


This was the day and Snape was on edge. Something bothered him. He felt angrier than usual. Snapping at students till he realized he just subtracted fifty points from a student who asked him to repeat an ingredient. Snape dismissed his class hastily. His head pounded and he kept finding himself fingering sharp objects in a way that made him nervous. He tried to clear his head of emotion. Keep himself focused as he had tried to do most of his life.

Then it happened. Falling back against his desk he stared at the ceiling eyes huge his chest constricting and the sudden excruciating pain centering first at his arm, then through his entire body. Something worming into his mind, past everything he had worked years to erect. Barriers he placed were suddenly blown away easily like so much dust on a dish.

A rat scuttled across the floor, dragging something silver behind it. It left the item at his feet and Severus found himself on his knees, fingers closing around the silver handle of the snake blade.

He suddenly knew what he must do.

  


~~~~~~~~~~~

  


"Heather?" Dumbledore looked up surprised as he saw Heather Fletcher come into his office, looking ill. Her eyes were glazed as though she wasn't quite seeing things.

"Run. Now," she told him. 

"What are you talking about, child?" Dumbledore came around his desk. He had just changed his password and for once had not used a sweet, as was his habit. Her entrance was of double concern at the moment.

Before he could say more, Fawkes gave a startled warning cry and Dumbledore looked up in time to see the crazed eyes of the Potion Master, a blade held to strike, but he didn't. He seemed to be fighting something. Dumbledore held very still. Knowing this inner battle would mean everything in a few moments, if he moved the wrong way, either he or Severus Snape would be dead. 

Heather threw herself between the Headmaster and the Potions Master. 

"Stop!" she screamed, moving to tackle Snape before he could do what he was sent to do.

Snape dodged, being the more experienced fighter, and knocked Heather aside. Dumbledore struggled with his wand and found the Potions Master moving faster than normal and could only watch as the sudden flaring pain blossomed across his chest as the snake blade sunk home - into his shoulder. 

Heather had once more dashed, in striking Snape's aim off at the last moment. The crazed teacher flung her aside, ripping out the blade and turning onto her. 

He raised his arm to strike and she only stared back at him, her eyes never leaving his. Dumbledore saw the emotions flickering behind the cold veil in Snape's eyes. Then suddenly with a strangled sound, he flung the blade from himself and flashed out of the room.

Heather paused only long enough to see that Dumbledore still breathed. 

Then she too, ran out in the direction of the Potions Master.

  


~~~~~~~

  


Heather cursed herself a fool when she followed Snape into the dense vapors outside the school. Wet, stormy weather, and heavy fog the rest of the time. The entire day had been like this. Perfect for an unexpected attack.

_But who knew the attack would be done by Professor Snape?_ she thought to herself, pausing over the still body of a student. Did Snape do this? She couldn't tell if the child lived or died. 

But because of the moments she spent checking, she didn't see the ones that came from behind.

Then she didn't see anything but the back of her eyelids.


	4. chapter 4

  


Heather shook with barely controlled rage standing in a dress a princess would be proud of. A whimsical bit of cloth clung to her arms, showing more of her shoulders and minimal cleavage than she would wish. Heather only prayed that someone transfigured her old outfits into this. The idea of someone, dressing her like a doll made her more than slightly ill. Across the way, the house burned. Fire turning the snow to blood. Heather shivered under the December cold. _Just like my dreams_, she thought, _blood on snow and lifeless bodies_. Though one thing was very different. Below on a blood stained hieratic altar was Professor Severus Snape. Lashed down and stretched to a point, her joints winced sympathetically, but his face was controlled, not showing the pain he must be going through. She could see from her vantage the twitch of his cheek where he gnashed his teeth, surrounded by his former comrades, Death Eaters. 

A shadow came up behind her. Cold, chilling, malicious and this one she feared. She had to keep telling herself not to jump, not to show fear. To stay strong, stay calm. Or neither her nor her teacher would make it out of this alive.

_Why do you want to save him_? part of her asked. Memories of the state the school was left in. Snape's horrible betrayal. Dumbledore badly injured, she didn't even know if he still lived at all. Students dead. Blindly, Heather had followed the crazed Professor out into the storm. Something in her screaming that it couldn't have been right. Snape would never betray Dumbledore. Not willingly. _Would he?_

Now, both captured, Heather knew she would be next on that altar. Things in her dreams were all too clear. What would most likely happen to her. If she didn't escape, it wasn't going to be a very pleasant death.

Skeletal fingers brushed her skin. Gentle in mockery of a lover's touch. Heather closed her eyes and gripped her teeth to keep from shivering in distaste, as she so badly wanted. She felt warm breath brush her neck and shoulders like carefully placed kisses.

Heather did shiver - in total disgust. 

A cruel chuckle, as if the owner of the touch was pleased at getting a reaction out of her. Those hands moving up into her hair, curling among the mousy curls and then pulling her head back forcefully so that she looked up at the face of the enemy, shadowed by the hood pulled low over his face. 

"You clean up decently girl," Voldemort hissed cruelly. Heather winced as he pulled her hair savagely. 

"Can't say the same for you" _when all fails_, she thought, _resort to childish behavior_. She stared boldly back at slitted eyes, though just looking at his face made her want to scream and crumble into acting like the fifteen year old she was.

He said nothing, not dignifying that particular response with a comment, but after a moment -a very long moment for Heather since her back was starting to complain very much at the angle she was held at - he finally did speak "I must ask, why did you followed Severus into the storm child?"

At least he wasn't calling her Mudblood or some such thing yet. He did seem honestly curious in his sick demented way.

"Because it wasn't him in the school." She remembered mostly Snape's eyes. He could have killed her, but for a moment his eyes went from cold to horrified. A brief moment burned into her memory. Like fire and blood. 

"But it was," Voldemort smiled, showing far too many teeth. "Your Professor fulfilled my orders turning the school to chaos, distracting everyone and killing that Albus Dumbledore."

_But the Headmaster lives_, her mind screamed. She did not repeat that thought, choosing to say, "Then why is he strapped to that altar instead of me?"

A chuckle.

"Because he must learn a lesson." He seemed distracted for the moment, watching the house burn. Not even glancing down below to Snape's body. Then he continued back looking down to her, "You though, have gifts that would be very useful to me. Yes, very useful. Severus told me all about your gifts."

_When we were captured_, she thought, _he must have told them about my foresight to keep me alive, at least a bit longer_. Long enough maybe for rescue?

"Whoopie-do," she replied really wishing he would at least find a NEW position to hold her in. Amongst the pain was the nagging feeling he was looking down her cleavage. _Pervert_, she thought. She was really starting to get uncomfortable.

"I read tea leaves and tell Neville where he can find his toad. Not much of a gift if you ask me." She gave the most flippant tone she could, glad now for her time with Severus. _Never show fear. Show little pain, and be as rude as you possibly can_.

She did gasp when he gripped her hair tighter, making her feel as if it would come out by the roots.

"This is not a time to joke, child. I know you were the one tipping those fools off about my plans."

"So?" 

"Join with me," he hissed quietly, seductively. "Everything you could ever want would be yours. Money, fame, just tell me what it is you see. Give your loyalties to me. Your body and soul. I will give you everything."

It took some time before she really registered what he just said. He just offered for her to _join_ forces with him? _Join with the Darkside Luke,_ the memory came from watching the telly with her father, who was a Starwars nut. Something that amused her mother to no end. But it was her _Mudblood _Muggle father and her witch mother who never came from one of the old families.

Then that whole body and soul line really set off the alarm bells in her head, but then again with how he looked at the moment it was not likely he got many dinner dates. _Eat shit and die_, she thought to herself rebelliously. Voldemort leaned closer to her. As if he planned on kissing her. _If he does, I'm going to hurl_.

"Well interesting offer, but I really must refuse." _I actually have something called _morals_._

Voldemort let go and Heather wasn't able to catch herself before she landed flat on her back in the cold snow. 

"Stupid Mudblood bitch," he said. 

"I know you are, but what am I?"

He paused a long moment, then laughed. Sending chills down her spine and before she could react, he reached out and snagged her arm. Pulling her up roughly with his other hand raking painfully across her shoulder, drawing blood. Then he drew a mark on her arm with her own blood. The Dark Mark. He held it up so she could see it.

"This, child, could be yours. As one of mine, you would be safe when my forces move, destroying all those that stand in my way."

_Oh wow_, she thought, _he doesn't give up does he?_ Her eyes riveted on the image of her own blood in the Dark Mark. Like her dreams. Everything so like her dreams, yet her dreams never told her how this would all end. 

"I said no," and this time she managed to pull her arm away. Glancing around for an escape, she noticed something. Snape wasn't really tied down, more like someone had been holding him down. She spotted the wizard whose wand was out. Seeming to chant the spell that slowly stretched Snape farther along the altar. Before Voldemort could react, she grabbed a sharp looking flattish stone and, thanking her long practice skipping stones along the creek all summer, she flung it, striking the Death Eater hard enough to send him stumbling. Breaking the spell, or at least most of it, Snape was soon free. Below it broke into chaos as Death Eaters fought to regain control of the situation and Snape fought for his freedom. 

Voldemort hissed something Heather couldn't catch and struck her, sending her crashing into the snow, his own wand out pointed at her.

"Foolish girl. I gave you a chance to live, and you choose death"

"Better a clean death than an unclean life," she responded. Voldemort readied the Killing Curse. Before he struck, she rolled into him, knocking him back and his wand up. He reached out and grabbed her wounded shoulder, making her eyes inadvertently water with pain, but she ignored it. Her hand was holding another stone, which she was determined to beat him to death with. Kill this monster that had hurt her friends and killed innocent and good people. Her Hufflepuff heart was crying for those unfair deaths.

Voldemort was the stronger and faster of the two of them. He recovered quickly and like the striking snake he resembled, sent her flying back and rolling down the embankment. She felt a familiar shadow. Her shadow. Moments before something struck her. Pain like nothing she had ever felt before right in the middle of her back. She stared up into shocked black eyes. Her vision fading as she heard laughter all around her. _So this is how it ends? Shucks._

~~~~~~~~~

Severus looked up at Voldemort with hatred. Used once, then discarded, then used again against his will. There was a lot that happened the last few days he could never forgive. 

"Accio!" He called his wand to him, hand held ready and staring at Voldemort. The Fletcher girl lain carefully to the side. He wasn't sure if she still breathed, but if he took the time to check, he wouldn't live long enough to do anything about it. Voldemort had not cast a killing curse in those few hasty moments. Instead it had been to disable. Perhaps he thought to try and 'persuade' her to join him again. Voldemort had few women in his numbers. The few that _had_ existed had been driven mad or were dead. 

He wasn't going to let him take one of his students. 

"A duel?" Voldemort seemed so honestly amused, as Snape hoped he would be. Amused enough to actually battle him, rather than just kill him instantly. Snape wished to keep him here long as he could. Keep him from escaping before the always-late Aurors finally showed. Or Dumbledore recovered enough to get help after them. 

Better not to think of Dumbledore; he did not need distractions.

Voldemort pulled his own wand lazily and held ready. Giving a mocking bow in play of an actual formal duel. Snape only nodded his head back and before Voldemort could bring up his wand, sent his first spell flying. He didn't bother with disarming or minor charms, going straight to the major hexes and deadly curses. 

Voldemort didn't hold back either. Only fast reflexes saved him from the Cruciatus Curse. He tossed off a couple more spells, not sure if either hit since he continued moving to make himself harder to hit. As another spell he knew he could not dodge came at him, Snape threw up his hands in a warding gesture making a hasty temporary shield to block most of the effect of the spell that still blasted him back four feet. Rolling to the side he barely missed the next spell flung after the first. Eyes narrowed in concentration, Snape rapidly flung up several spells, all meant to distract long enough to near closer to Voldemort. 

When he was close enough, he struck. Casting the spell into his wand he flung it point first into Voldemort's unprotected throat. The Dark Lord stumbled back, choking as he reached up to remove the wand, breaking it in his hands. Snape's breath was harsh and foggy on the chill air as the Dark Lord cast baleful eyes at Snape and disappeared. Snape cursed himself for having not seen the treacherous creature's escape coming.

Having not been strong enough to kill him with the desperate gambit he pulled.

Kneeling alone in the snow, Snape hung his head, suddenly tired. He glanced up at the sky and then back to the side where he had left the girl. At first he thought she was dead - yet another body count in his name - until he noticed the ever so slight fall and rise of her chest. Getting up, he went over and checked for her pulse, finding the strong flutter under his fingers. He noticed the slightly flaking mark Voldemort had drawn in her blood and made a face of distaste. Tactless really. As if that would impress her. Snape knew better of course. 

But the snow wasn't doing her any good. Nor did it do him any good as well, since the adrenaline was beginning to fade and the cold started to set into his joints.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Heather woke, she was leaning against something. It took her a moment to realize the something breathed. The house had burned down to embers. She glanced over her shoulder, which had been bandaged with a bit of black material. Snape was staring at the sky at the moment but felt her movement and looked down over his shoulder at her. She was leaning against his back. Well, it was warmer that way. Her back against his and she faced the fading embers of the house. Surprised her a bit. Snape didn't like being touched. She hurt though, not just the shoulder, but all over. 

"What happened?" she asked.

"He hit you with a spell. I'm not quite sure which one he used. As angry as you made him, I don't think he realized either. He escaped me before I could do more than scratch him." Blunt, precise, without emotion. Just as she liked her information. The facts. So she still breathed. Her eyes glanced down and she saw a stone mask. A Death Eater's mask. Perhaps it belonged to Snape or someone forgot it, but she found her fingers closing over a rod from something that had littered the yard and with a savage movement, she put the end right through the center of the mask shattering it. 

Snape had watched her silently then looked off to the distance. He touched her uninjured shoulder lightly and pointed at something. She followed his gaze, noting that half of his sleeve was missing, thus the answer to the black material bandaging her arm. She saw wizards coming. Some walked, some on brooms and some Apparating. 

"Oh, the cavalry is here," she commented dryly. Snape snorted. The Aurors were a bit late.

"You two, what happened here?" asked a wizard, noticing them sitting together before the burning house. Bodies were scattered everywhere. Most were Death Eaters. Snape showing as much mercy to them as they would have showed to him.

Heather spoke before Snape could. "We're from Hogwarts, sir. Voldemort kidnapped the Professor and left an imposter to kill Dumbledore. I thought something was wrong and followed. I was captured and Professor Snape saved me." Knowing her normal factual way of talking likely wouldn't convince this person as to her honesty, she put on a show of tears and near hysterics. Not all faked either. She figured after all this, she deserved a chance to be a touch hysterical.

Snape was giving her a distinctly odd look, for that was not really the full and honest truth (either that or for her acting ability). Heather knew that, but she wasn't going to save Snape once to have to save him again from Azkaban. The Auror looked a little surprised, then got all mushy and fussed over her as someone brought a blanket. She trusted Snape to give a more detailed account to those closing in. At least she gave him a good alibi to use as to why it wasn't really him who tried to murder Dumbledore. Because it wasn't. That crazed hurting animal had not at all been the Professor, but something Voldemort created. At least that's how it was in her mind.

But Voldemort had unfortunately escaped. Would he try to use the Professor again? She didn't know. No sudden visions of the future told her anything either. She glanced down and still saw on her arm part of the mark Voldemort had drawn in her blood. Turned black from age. She made a face of disgust and wiped it off on the inside of the blanket, flaking the crusty blood off her arm. Then seated and being fussed over and given hot drinks and overall ignored as everyone preferred to talk to the 'adult' of the two of them, Heather smiled slightly and curled up, letting herself sleep

Surprisingly peacefully or maybe it was just exhaustion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heather sucked on a lemon drop, a habit she found she picked up from the Headmaster over the rest of the school year, contemplated her next move on the chess board. Professor Snape sat across from her, waiting. It had been like this for a while.

Right after the night she faced Voldemort, her parents had both come to Hogwarts to ensure themselves that she was fine. She spent a couple days in the hospital wing talking a lot with Dumbledore, who was fine, and while he took longer to recover from Snape's attack, he did and by the end of the winter holidays, he had been back on his feet and doing well. Even if he did walk a little slower and tended to act a touch more senile than before. Heather found herself in an interesting position as errand runner for the Headmaster since she had stayed on during the vacation after it had been deemed 'safer' for her till the magistrate was sure of what all did happen.

Till that time Heather had found she had gotten use to spending her evenings with Snape. During that time, he helped her sort through the confusing images of possibilities. She was used to his acidic tongue and losing house points nearly every time she turned around. Even the fifty points Dumbledore gave her for her heart, logic, and bravery hardly put a dent in what she lost to Snape. However, Heather had a sneaking suspicion that not all of the 'lost points' Snape kept taking were actually lost because she spent some time staring at the House record and kept finding that it didn't all add up. They still made second that year, putting Slytherin in third, much to everyone's thrill. It had been a long time since Hufflepuff made anything but fourth and periodically third.

Heather had also been surprised and relieved when the dreams all but stopped. She seldom woke with thoughts of doom and death on her mind. Though she did often end up telling the Gryffindor Neville where to find his toad. Helped Sprout figure out the best time to plant temperamental herbs. Usually made herself very popular as the locator of lost things and foreteller of happy occasions.

Sometime in February, Heather found herself peeking into the dungeon classroom to find Professor Snape correcting papers. He had given her a sour look and she asked if she could help. To her surprise, he had let her. Even though they never talked much about what happened, they did talk about all manners of subjects from Arts to Potions. Then one evening, he decided to teach her chess when he discovered she never really played before but in passing.

It was the end of the year and the last night she would spend at Hogwarts before summer started. The students would all be going back to their homes on the 'morrow. She was determined to try and win this game. Beat Professor Snape at least once, which since they started playing, she never managed to do. Sending a bishop acrossed the board, Snape hardly waited before sending his knight moving and she lost her bishop, who she had to hastily save from the over-enthusiastic knight who sent the peace flying off the playing field. 

"Hey now, you guys play nice!" The pieces all started booing and cat calling her and each other. Heather rolled her eyes. "You know there are days Muggle playing pieces have their advantages" 

Snape snorted, looking amused.

"Going to write?" Heather asked and moved a pawn who took out Snape's pawn. She watched her piece do a jaunty jig, as the others cheered it on.

"What ever for, Ms. Fletcher?"

"I don't know," she responded. "Dumbledore promised to write if he ever thinks about it." She was trying to think of her next move.

"Then I will as well," he responded, adding dryly, "if I think about it."

Heather grinned evilly and waited for Snape to take a sip of his tea before saying, the other watching her growing expression of mischief with suspicion, "Then I'll write every week telling you about what teen-age girls do all summer!"

He choked on his tea to her pleasure. "That is not necessary, Ms. Fletcher," Severus Snape stuttered as he caught his breath again. Heather only giggled coldly, thinking already of a particular teen magazine with the cover story 'Ten easy steps so that you too can have movie star hair!'

Professor Snape gave her an equally cold look with a single raised brow as if he could see exactly what was going on in her head. She only smiled back sticky sweet batting her lashes innocently. He snorted.

"I've a mind to take ten points from your house Ms. Fletcher"

"Can't, they already gave out the House Cup!" she grinned triumphantly.

"Does not mean it can not come off of next years' score!" Snape shot back.

She stuck out her tongue and made a rude sound.

"Oh, how childish," he drawled.

"I know you are, but what am I?"

Snape only shrugged, shaking his head in a manner that clearly said he had given up on her sanity and intelligence, then made his next move on the chessboard. The rest of the evening went on in comfortable, playful banter and flying chessmen. 

A/N: A special thanks to my betas, extra extra special thanks to you reviewers who loved the story. While I know there may be some questions left, just stay tuned for the next 'Hogwarts' Chapter and the return of Heather in "Cursed Vows" which will be a longer story than this one was. I believe this is the final adjustments. There may be a few errors left still. I don't know, anyway this story been done awhile, but just took time for the betas to finish the corrections. Well thanks for sticking around and stay tuned for a couple new stories I'll be posting, aside from the sequel to this one there will be a new story or two. Got a couple ideas and one that's been writing itself out well. 

As a side note, I write these as practice in story telling and grammer. Work on them when I'm totally frustrated with my novels. (Yes I do happen to write for a living. Its something to do LOL) So these are meant to be only for fun for me to write, if you happen to enjoy reading them then that's a bonus :) 

For more art, harry potter, and whatever else strikes my fancy check out my web page:


End file.
